


Hardboiled

by CrotchetyOldLady



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 1920s, Alternate Universe, Detective Noir, Detectives, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-02-23 20:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18709315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrotchetyOldLady/pseuds/CrotchetyOldLady
Summary: The Stark girls are missing and the Blackfish hires the most dedicated PI he knows to find his nieces. Meanwhile the King's Landing Police Department has put their lead detective on the case.  When the world seems determined for them to fail, can an upstanding, unattractive female investigator and a wretched, beautiful police detective work together to bring home two lost girls? Or will the case bring more than they expected?OrA 1920s Jaime/Brienne slow burn detective au based off 1920's America mixed with the world of ASoIaF. Based mostly off the books, with some TV thrown in for good measure.





	1. Mothers & Daughters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was unhappy with the pacing of this fic, especially as I got farther in, so I wanted to change the chapter organization/lengths, but trying to drastically edit every chapter already posted was too difficult so I deleted the work and am reposting. This chapter contains no new material, it is just put together differently.
> 
> I apologize to the subscribers, but hopefully you will see this and be able to subscribe again. I promise this won't happen a second time.

Her father had been a military man, participating in the Blackfyre Rebellion when he was still a teenager and the War of the Ninepenny Kings as a young man. After the second war he had retired from military service, returning to the small island named for his family and involved himself in the simple politics there, taking his place as lord and governing his people. He protected his island and his two living children from the Usurper's War. And so Brienne’s childhood had not been marred by the cruelties of war.

But that did not mean her childhood was particularly joyful. Her mother had been tall and willowy, pale skin, white-blonde hair, and soft gray eyes. She had successfully birthed two babes—Brienne’s older brother Galadon and Brienne herself. But those pregnancies and births had taken their toll on her delicate body; both babes had been big and strong like their father. She held more babes in her womb, but birthed no more successfully. Her third pregnancy after Brienne lasted seven months, laying in bed the entire time, before she labored again. Another girl, big like Galadon and Brienne, but she was blue and lifeless. Brienne, only four, had attended the birth in joyful anticipation, had held the limp, but still warm body of her baby sister as the maester and septa worked frantically between her mother's legs.

She would still remember when she was a woman and grown, how the blood soaked the sheets, pooled on the floor, leaving her mother’s cheeks cold and pale as porcelain. So she was left the only girl in her family.

***

“I’ve got a job for you,” Brynden “Blackfish” Tully said, unceremoniously dumping a file on Brienne’s desk.

“You’re not the only one,” she griped, waving a hand at the piles of paperwork cluttering her room.

“Yeah, but this one’s personal,” he replied, sitting in the chair across from her. Brienne perked up at the idea of a case personal to the Riverrun Police Chief.

She opened the file and the name Stark jumped out at her. She knows that the Blackfish’s niece is Stark by name and that the Starks are one of the most powerful families in Westeros, if isolated. The word _missing_ hit her next and she flipped the paper to see two black and white faces gazing back at her. Both girls, one about fifteen, delicate and pretty, the other probably twelve, small but scrappy looking. Sansa and Arya Stark, both missing, their mother Catelyn Stark desperate for their return.

Brienne sighed and closed the file, looking at the Blackfish’s stoic features.

“There are so many missing children,” she started, “with the current civil unrest. It will be almost impossible to find two little girls in all this mess.” He nodded, but his expression stayed the same.

“Catelyn is waiting for you and you will have a partner. And the reward will be immense,” he said. She sighed again and opened the file to the pictures, thinking of their mother, of her despair and desperation. Thinking of her own mother who died in a pool of blood desperate for more children.

“I don’t do it for the reward,” she said, more to herself than him.

She was on a train headed toward Bitterbridge the next day. She perused the file again, committing all the details to memory. After a third read through she let her mind wander. She wondered who the partner will be. A man for certain, since there are no female cops. Brienne hated working with cops, they always underestimated her, think her dumb and incapable, first because she was a woman, and an ugly one at that, and then because she was quiet and kept to herself.

She decided instead to dwell on the one person she was actually looking forward to seeing —Renly Baratheon. She knew he was currently at Bitterbridge too, amassing supporters, loyalties and allies in preparation to take control of his brother Robert Baratheon’s business, since, if the rumors were to be believed, he was no longer truly in power after a nasty hunting accident had him laid up.

Politics aside, Renly was an old friend, one of the very few people Brienne considered as such. When she was fourteen and already tall and hulking and incredibly awkward, he had visited her home, the little island of Tarth that her father governed. He had been kind to her where every boy and young man she had met before had been cruel. And when her father had thrown a party in Renly’s honor, he had even danced with her. She had developed a right crush on him. But eight years had passed since then and although they exchanged letters occasionally, they hadn’t seen each other since, which had dulled Brienne’s affections to mere friendship.

She smiled to herself, leaning her head back on her seat, deciding to nap the rest of the journey away. Still, it would be good to see her friend again.

***

Bitterbridge was a small place, low lying with plain old buildings and not much in the way of scenery. But when Brienne arrived from the train station by taxi, there looked to be some sort of festival going on. She did not have much time to take this in before a woman had rushed up to her and took her arm in her grasp.

“You must be Miss Tarth,” the woman said, sharp blue eyes boring into her face. Brienne nodded, gently removing the hand from her arm.

“Mrs. Stark, let me grab my bags so we can be on our way.”

“Of course. Do you need any assistance?” Though she asked, she made no move to help as Brienne shouldered a single bag and grabs the handle of a small suitcase.

“I can manage, thank you. Please lead the way.”

Catelyn nodded and led Brienne to a small, but bustling hotel, where she had a key to a single room with a small bed, a table and two chairs, a couch, a closet, and a bathroom. Brienne left her luggage near the door.

“Why don’t we take a seat Miss Stark and then start at the beginning.”

And so they did. Catelyn told her of how her second youngest Bran had fallen from a window and lay in a coma. How her husband Ned had taken the girls to King’s Landing while Catelyn stayed at their home in Winterfell with their boys, because Ned had gone to help an old friend, Robert Baratheon, with business issues since his partner Jon Arryn had died and the girls had come along because they had never been outside Winterfell before and Sansa was smitten with Robert’s eldest son.

After a few months, she had received a phone call that Robert Baratheon had been in a hunting accident and less than a week later another that Ned had died in a car accident. She had called her brother immediately, asking if he could meet her there and began making preparations to retrieve her daughters from King’s Landing. But the next morning with bags hastily packed and the train set to leave in two hours, she had received another call.

When Brynden had called to make arrangements for the girls to be readied for retrieval, it seemed no one knew where they were. He had spent the entire night on the phone with different officials, but they were nowhere to be found. With Robert incapacitated and his wife and her father seemingly indifferent to her plight, she had travelled instead to Bitterbridge to plead with Robert’s younger, supposedly kinder, brother for assistance.

“And Brynden says that King’s Landing will be assigning a detective to the case, but that he knew a PI that was better than any detective and who would actually care about my girls,” Catelyn finished, hope and fear and sorrow mixing to distort her pretty features and making her seem much older than her thirty-five years.

“I don’t know about better than any detective, but Chief Tully is right that I do care about your girls, Mrs. Stark, and I will do everything in my power to get them back,” Brienned said, placing her fist firmly against her chest, a vow.

Brienne spent the rest of that evening asking about the girls—their personalities, hobbies, interests, more details on their appearances, and anything she could think of—and keeping meticulous notes of it all in her moleskine notebook. They had a simple stew with buttered bread and water brought to the room for dinner.

Catelyn had stifled her third yawn in as many minutes when Brienne realized she had never gotten a room of her own for the night. Catelyn waved her worry away, offering the bed to Brienne. Brienne, of course, vehemently refused, demanding to take the sofa despite her advanced size. Giving her first, though small, smile since their meeting, Catelyn acquised and disappeared with a bag into the bathroom. She emerged moments later fresh faced, long auburn hair braided back, in a floor-length nightdress and bid Brienne goodnight.

Brienne turned off the table light, leaving the room in relative darkness and took her own bag into the bathroom. The shower was so small that the showerhead hit at her chest, forcing her to do an awkward backward bending crouch just to wash her hair, but the water was hot and felt good on her travel-sore lower back. As she was trying to dry off without knocking into anything with her elbows, she couldn't help but wonder when the King’s Landing detective would arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed.
> 
> Kudos & comments make my day and help keep me motivated!


	2. Arrivals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you had previously read this work before reposting, I don't think there is anything new in this chapter, just more restructuring. If you're new, enjoy!

His father was a businessman, having taken over his own father’s businesses at a young age. Tall and severe even as a teenager, Tywin Lannister took over the books at his father’s failing saloon at fifteen and turned it into the most popular joint in town. At seventeen he took control of his father’s few investments and turned those into as good as gold. A year later he began attending Harvard and after graduation took interest in the stock market. That, along with commodity investing, quickly built his fortune.

Though he could never be called charming, he did know how to control people, forcing loyalty through family ties and intimidation, and when those did not work, money was ever the useful back-up.

When asked what was most important in his life all this would be listed first, followed by the afterthought of family. And as a widower with three disappointments for children—a rebellious underachiever, a girl, and a drunken, philandering freak—it was a grudging afterthought at that.

Jaime was well aware of this. He grew up in luxury, surrounded by wealth and opportunity with his heart twin and too-smart little brother. But the gray cloud of paternal disappointment was never far from view.

***

“I have a new case for you, top priority,” Selmy said, waving a file folder in front of Jaime’s face. Jaime leaned out of the way and glared up at the white haired captain.

“I’ve already got three open cases I’m working on. Give it to Preston or Meryn.”

Selmy shook his head and slapped the folder down on top of his desk.

“I’m reassigning you, this is your only case now.”

With a huff, Jaime opened the folder and was greeted with the faces of two familiar children. He perused the file, skimming for the important details. It seemed the Starks just couldn't catch a break. He looked back up at his captain.

“I see the importance, but why me? It’s not like the Starks are very fond of me.”

“Be that as it may, you’re my best man, so pack up and go home because you have a train that leaves at five.” With that Selmy clapped a firm hand on Jaime’s shoulder and headed to Preston’s desk.

The train ride was long and boring and Jaime knew there would be nothing but anger and pain awaiting him in Bitterbridge.

He was greeted at the station by none other than Loras Tyrell. The boy’s pretty face was puckered, his arms crossed, and his foot tapping a quick rhythm on the platform. Jaime called his name and Loras raiseed a hand in greeting. The younger man led Jaime to a waiting Rolls Royce Silver Ghost and he couldn't help but roll his eyes at the overt display of wealth.

“This was Margery’s gift to Renly for their wedding,” Loras said once they were settled in the back seat and the driver had taken off.

Jaime knew the rumor about Robert was true, he was on death’s door, if not already dead by now. And if the other rumors were true, Robert’s two younger brothers were both clambering to prove they should be the ones to inherit Robert’s business, King’s Oil Company, which was originally started by Aerys Targaryen and now had a near monopoly on all the oil in Westeros. The Tyrell family had made its allegiance clear when they had allowed the not yet eighteen-year-old Margery to marry the youngest Baratheon brother. Jaime knew the relative peace Westeros had seen since the Usurper’s War and Aerys’ death could not last, in fact he was surprised it had lasted as long as it did.

Loras did not speak again for the rest of the ride and Jaime welcomed the silence, knowing the storm that was to come.

***

Brienne woke before Catelyn, her entire body stiff from trying to fit onto the sofa overnight. She wet her mess of short, straw-like hair to get it into a somewhat presentable style and dressed in tan trousers, a white button-up, navy tie, and a brown vest and jacket set, the best clothes she had brought with her. Brienne had taken to wearing almost exclusively menswear since she had left Tarth. She knew this meant even less people than before saw her as womanly, but it also meant that she was taken more seriously than a just a chick in skirts and it made the occasional sneaking and chasing down that happened as a PI much easier.

By the time she exited the cramped bathroom, Catelyn had already dressed in a modest black ensemble and was twisting up her long hair.

“I assume we are going to speak to Mr. Baratheon today,” Catelyn stated, securing a black felt hat atop her head, bringing out the shadows beneath her eyes.

“Yes, Renly has many connections, so we can see if he has heard anything, or if not we can at least ask if he would be willing to provide resources,” Brienne replied, fishing her wallet out of her bag and putting it in her left inner jacket pocket, then placed her pen and notebook in the right one. She placed a hand on the door knob, but instead of opening the door she turned to face the older, smaller woman.

“You don’t have to come Mrs. Stark. I know this all must be very hard for you and I’m very used to working alone.” Catelyn snatched her small purse off the table and drew herself to her full height.

“I want my girls back Miss Tarth, and I will do whatever necessary for that to happen.”

***

A servant let the pair into Mayor Caswell’s house. Renly, standing in the parlor speaking to an older gentleman, was somehow more handsome than last Brienne had seen him. His hair was slickly combed back with a sharp part on the left side, he was clean shaven, his jaw more defined than she remembered. He was taller too, but not as tall as she and still of slim build. His smile was unchanged.

“Renly,” she cannot help but to call his attention, the only man whose attention she had ever cared to have. His head turned and he took her in, grin blooming, he loped over and grabbed her hands, bringing her knuckles to his lips.

“Well ain't you a sight for sore eyes?”

Brienne can only stand dazed for a moment, stomach swooping in a way it hasn’t in years. Catelyn’s delicate cough broke the fugue and Brienne smiled politely, stepping back and breaking contact.

“Renly, I’m here on behalf of Mrs. Stark, I’m sure you’re aware of the situation?” He sobered, bowing slightly to Catelyn.

“Yes, my deepest sympathies to you in this trying time,” he said, batting thick lashes at her, mouth drawn into a delicate frown.

“We have some questions to ask you,” Brienne started, pushing her hands into her pockets.

“Yes, I will help in anyway I can,” Renly said, leading them into the now empty parlor. “Although perhaps the questions should wait.” Catelyn stopped in the middle of the room.

“Why is that?”

“Oh, my apologies, that sounded worrisome. It is only that my dear brother-in-law is currently on his way here with the gumshoe assigned to your case,” he replied, settling into a velvet settee. Catelyn lowered herself into an armchair, and Brienne took her place on the opposite loveseat.

“How?” Was all she managed. His grin reformed.

“Well you see, I heard of the tragedy and the missing girls and then when Mrs. Stark arrived I felt I should try to help an old family friend, so I called the King’s Landing Police Department to see what was going on and they let me know a detective was going to be dispatched the next day. I got the exact details and had Loras there to pick him up so he could get to you that much quicker.” He leaned back into the seat and reached to the side table, retrieving a little bell.

“How about some refreshments while we wait then,” he said, but did not wait for their reply before summoning a serving girl. The women both accepted the offered lemonade, it seemed their questions would have to wait for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately for Brienne sofa-beds/sleeper-sofas/pullout-sofas were not conceived of until 1931.
> 
> Next chapter is all new content! And they finally meet! +shopping
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, even if you are bitter about the most recent got episode like me.
> 
> Kudos & comments make my day and keep me motivated!


	3. Detective

Brienne was fourteen when the King's youngest brother, only two years older than herself, visited her little island. Her crush was almost immediate. They were of the same height, although his build was slim and wiry where she was big and bulky. He was beautiful, more beautiful than her, and most of all he was kind, something she had found other boys never were to her since her brother had died.

A well-off lad of sixteen, he was spending his copious amount of free time and money traveling the entirety of Westeros. Though Tarth was not a particularly powerful or rich place, it was considerably beautiful and one of the main sources of marble in Westeros, which apparently made it just valuable enough to warrant a visit from this prestigious boy.

Renly stayed only a fortnight on the island, but as the only heir and being close to his age, Brienne was given the task of host and escort during those two weeks. This time quickly became the best of Brienne’s life since the loss of her brother, culminating in a ball the likes of which Tarth had not seen since her parent’s wedding.

***

The ridiculous display of wealth in form of a vehicle finally stopped in the drive of the mayor’s house. Loras waited for the driver to open his door, but Jaime had no such patience, and was around the car by the time Loras’ shiny shoe touched the gravel.

“They should be waiting for us inside,” the young man said, straightening his jacket, before finally strolling to the front door. Jaime ground his teeth at the boy’s halo of golden-brown curls.

Loras was correct that when a servant showed them to the parlor a small group of people was waiting for them. Jaime recognized Robert’s brother Renly and Ned’s wife Catelyn immediately, but the third person with his broad back facing them was unfamiliar. Renly stood, alerting the others to Jaime and Loras’ entrance.

“Ah, my dear brother-in-law has returned right on time.” Catelyn swiveled her head, but did not rise, icy blue eyes narrowing as she took Jaime in.

“Jaime Lannister,” she said, tone hard and disapproving, no surprises there.

The large man rose and faced them. The first thing Jaime noticed was that the man was taller than Renly and were they to stand toe-to-toe, he would likely surpass Jaime by an inch or so too. The second thing Jaime noticed was that he was no man at all, instead this person was an incredibly large, terribly ugly woman in men’s clothing.

“By the Gods, you’re a broad.”

***

Jaime Lannister. Brienne knew that name. She remembered seeing his picture in the paper at the end of the Usurper’s War, remembered the other name given to him in bold black font—Kingslayer.  But those grainy newspaper photos had not prepared her for the breathtaking beauty of the man in front of her. The Lannisters were apparently not just called the golden lions because of their ancient house sigil, for this man epitomized that moniker. At least until he opened those perfectly proportioned lips to immediately insult her, just as nearly every other man she’d ever met had done.

“I am Brienne Tarth. Private Investigator hired by Riverrun Police Chief Brynden Tully,” Brienne introduced herself tersely, sticking out a hand for politeness’ sake.

“A pleasure to meet you _Miss_ Tarth,” he said, brilliant green eyes dancing as he took her proffered hand and moved to bring it to his lips. Brienne jerked from his grip before he could could kiss the knuckles Renly had laid his lips on only hours before.

“Well now that everyone is here, why don’t we get started?” Renly interrupted, sitting back down now with Loras by his side. Brienne returned to her seat and Jaime took the only empty chair, opposite Catelyn.

“Renly, have you heard anything at all about the Stark sisters? Even any tiny rumor may help?” Brienne asked, fishing her notebook and pen from inside her jacket and turning to a blank page.

“Since I heard of Mrs. Starks arrival I have been trying to rack my brain for anything, but unfortunately I cannot recall anything of use,” he replied, giving Brienne an apologetic glance. His dark blue eyes held hers and her heart thumped, pen poised unmoving over the page.

“And Robert never mentioned anything?” Catelyn interrupted the moment. Renly turned to her, leaving Brienne feeling short of breath. She was not supposed to react like that to Renly anymore.

“As I’m sure you have heard my eldest brother was sadly indisposed before your daughters’ disappearance.” Jaime scoffed, drawing the glares of everyone in the room.

“So sad that instead of visiting his sick bed in King’s Landing, you eloped then came here to throw a festival?” he questioned, leaning back and crossing his ankle over his knee, raising a perfectly arched brow. Brienne bristled at the accusation in his tone.

“My brother and I were never particularly close and besides I did not think his _wife_ would want me there,” Renly said, his lips lifting into an easy smile as if he had just made some profound point and indeed Jaime scowled at his words, dropping his foot back down, but what the point was Brienne did not understand.

“So there is nothing you can think of?” Brienne asked again, breaking the building tension as the men stared at each other. Renly’s shook his head sadly at her.

“Unfortunately no,” he said. Brienne sighed, returned her notebook to her pocket, and placed a hand on the loveseat to hoist herself up.

“However,” Renly interrupted her movements, “I have made some calls to friends in King’s Landing. I should hear back from them by tomorrow evening at the latest, so if you would all join us at our dinner party tomorrow night, I should have something for you then.”

Brienne was torn, she would be glad to have an excuse to see Renly again, but a dinner party sounded like torture. It was Catelyn that made the decision for them—they would attend.

Jaime left without farewells, apparently the Kingslayer was unsurprisingly no gentleman. After giving their friendly farewells Catelyn and Brienne left too.

“Have you appropriate attire for a dinner party?” Catelyn asked once the pair was headed back to town on foot. Brienne felt her face heat and shoved her hands in her pockets.

“I have this, my outfit yesterday, two other tops, and my nightclothes,” she listed rigidly, knowing that none would be considered appropriate.

“Well, since I did not pack anything of that caliber either it seems we need to head to the shops,” Catelyn said. Brienne wanted to protest, but Catelyn was walking ahead now, back straight, and she knew it would only be a losing battle.

Since Bitterbridge was a rather small place and there were only two small boutiques to choose from. The first had nothing that could accommodate Brienne’s size, which Catelyn had scolded the owner about before refusing to even look at anything for herself. Face burning, Brienne tried to tell Catelyn that she would just wear this outfit again as it was the best she had brought with her, but the older woman was hearing none of it and forged ahead to the second shop, Brienne slumping along behind feeling more like a reluctant child than the hired professional she was supposed to be.

The owner of the second shop was, though not tall, a wide woman and assured them that she had at least a few options that should work. Catelyn quickly picked out a modest black velvet dress for herself and a black wrap coat with silver fox fur trim. Brienne took more time, her unusual size and no time for tailoring forcing her to try on multiple options before she finally picked the one that she felt was most acceptable. Catelyn then picked out undergarments for them both, much to Brienne’s chagrin. Feeling hot and frazzled Brienne was ready to go back to the hotel for the evening.

“Now we just need to get you proper shoes,” Catelyn said as the shopkeeper began boxing up their purchase.

“I am fine with my shoes,” Brienne tried to argue.

“You cannot wear men’s shoes with such a fine dress,” she said firmly.

At least trying on shoes was less bothersome than with dresses. However, there were very few shoes that came in Brienne’s size and they were all casual oxfords that Catelyn did not approve of, forcing Brienne to settle for a pair of black patent Mary Jane’s with a ribbon ran through eyelets instead of a strap that were a half a size too small at least. Catelyn also insisted of purchasing a gold ribbon to contrast the shoe, replacing the standard black.

With this it seemed Catelyn was finally satisfied and paid for all their items. Brienne demanded to carry their four boxes, leaving only the bag containing their undergarments to Catelyn. They walked back to the hotel in silence, despite it only be late afternoon now, Brienne was ready for a hot meal and sleep.

But it seemed the gods did not feel kind today for upon entering the hotel a beautiful golden head swiveled their way. Jaime Lannister looking magnificent in the lobby, most likely waiting just for them.

“Ladies, I have been wondering when you would arrive,” he said, jumping up and blocking their path. “Although I should have known as soon as two fine dames such as yourselves heard the words ‘dinner party’ you would head to the shops.” He raised his brows at the boxes Brienne was carrying.

“Is there something we can help you with, detective?” Catelyn asked.

“As Renly ushered me straight to his current living place, we have not had the pleasure of speaking alone yet, Mrs.Stark, and as official detective assigned to this case,” his eyes flicked to Brienne briefly, “I do believe we should talk.”

“Very well, you may accompany us to my room then.”

Catelyn turned on her heal and led the way. Jaime flashed a triumphant grin before following with Brienne bringing up the rear. Catelyn opened the door and set the bag in the closet, but Jaime stopped in the doorway, his tall frame blocking Brienne’s entrance.

“My fair lady, your services are appreciated I’m sure, but this is a private conversation.”

Brienne felt her face flame as she ground her teeth, but it was Catelyn who rebutted.

“Miss Tarth is in my employ and has my full confidence, either she stays or we have naught to discuss.” Jaime let slip a scowl for only a moment before smiling easily.

“Of course, my apologies miss,” he said, turning his body to allow her entrance and flourishing his hands in an over-the-top welcoming gesture.

Brienne tried to squeeze past them, but they were both large people and with the boxes still in her arms, she ended up brushing her back against him in passing. She hunched her shoulders and hurried the rest of the way into the room, placing the boxes carefully next to the bed. Catelyn was already seated at the table and so Jaime took the other chair, leaving Brienne to sit on the couch, on the outskirts of the conversation.

“Would you care for a refreshment, we can call a maid,” Catelyn offered.

“That is not necessary, thank you, I only have some questions for you,” he replied.

“I will answer your questions, but there are also things I must know,” Catelyn said, surprising Brienne, what did they need to question the detective for? Jaimed frowned, seeming to wonder the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the books Catelyn has some dresses made for Brienne in her measurements, although she doesn't wear them. I always thought it was funny with everything going on she took the time to get Brienne's measurements and have proper lady's gowns made for her. Like, Catelyn is truly such a mom.
> 
> Next chapter Brienne learns more about Jaime and everyone gets ready for the dinner party.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, kudos & comments make my day and keep me motivated!


	4. Get Ready

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Some of the dialogue was taken directly from the ASoIaf books and adapted to fit this scenario.

At nineteen Tywin married the mayor and owner of Lannisport’s daughter, Ellyn. Ellyn was a spinster, already past thirty and of delicate constitution, but she was the sole heir of Lannisport and with their union Tywin became rightful heir of both the city and his family’s home of Casterly Rock.

Their marriage was not one of love, but politics. However Ellyn was a nice enough woman and Tywin was more focused on business than romance so they were content enough. That was until he finished college and moved from the family dorms at Harvard and back to Casterly Rock. There his wife hired staff, including a fresh-faced eighteen year old lady’s maid, Joanna. Young, vibrant, and beautiful Tywin had become smitten with her immediately. But he remembered his father’s many mistresses and the disgrace they came with so he settled for admiring her from afar.

Less than a year later Ellyn was with child. Her delicate health seemed to decline every day of her pregnancy, until she never left her room, laying upon crimson sheets, pale and thin, but for her ever extending stomach with Joanna attending her everyday.

***

“Why should I tell you anything? I’m not being investigated.”

“To save your job.”

“Oh?”

“If you wish to investigate at all, you will answer the questions I have for you.”

“Fine, what is it you care to know so badly, Mrs. Stark?”

“Your crimes should have earned you a place in the seven hells, if the gods are just, and I want the truth,” she replied. Brienne was shocked, she had not seen such vehemence in her employer’s eyes or heard such harsh words from her mouth. Jaime’s easy smiles were gone as he sneered at the woman.

“Oh, it’s truth you want? Be careful, ma’am. Tyrion says that people often claim to hunger for truth, but seldom like the taste when it’s served up.”

“I am strong enough to hear anything you say.”

“As you wish then. But first I will ask my questions and your oversized lackey can fetch us dinner since it seems this will take longer than anticipated and I’m sure she’s already heard the answers to what I’m about to ask.”

Brienne bridled, but turned to Catelyn for direction who nodded at her with a grim face. So, she stood and left, hearing Jaime start to ask the same things she had just yesterday. She tracked down a maid and ordered three of whatever the dinner special was, three teas, and a pitcher of water to be sent to the room. Catelyn was in the middle of describing Sansa’s interests and hobbies when Brienne returned. They seemed to be nearing the end of Jaime’s questions when their food and drink arrived. Brienne ate in silence as the other two continued to talk, eating during pauses. As dinner was finished, so too seemed to be Jaime’s questions.

“Now, for your first question Mrs. Stark.”

“Are you Joffery’s father?” Brienne jerked, did she mean Robert Baratheon’s son, the one Sansa had been smitten with? Surely she could not be insinuating...was Joffery’s mother not Cersei Baratheon formerly _Lannister_?

“Take one look at Cersei’s brood and their mops of black hair and you’ll find your answer,” he said, crossing his arms and looking at the curtain covered window. Brienne let loose a shaky breath.

“But you admit to being your sister’s lover?”

Brienne blanched at the crude implication, whatever she had though Catelyn wanted to question the detective about this was not it. This man was apparently as vile as he was beautiful.

“I’ve always loved my sister. She is my twin in all but blood,” he shrugged. Brienne’s head spun, so Cersei was not his _true_ sister then?

“How can you still count yourself an officer of the people, when you have forsaken every every vow you ever swore?”

“So many vows...they make you swear and swear. It’s too much. No matter what you do, you’re forsaking one vow or the other,” he closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “I was the youngest man ever to make detective.”

“And the youngest to betray all it stood for, Kingslayer.”

“ _Kingslayer_ ,” he spoke each syllable carefully. “And such a king he was!” He lifted his glass of water. “To Aerys ‘’The King’ Targaryen the Second of his Name, Governor of Kingslanding, and _Protector_ of the People. To the knife that opened his throat. A _golden_ knife, don’t you know. Until his blood ran red down the blade.” He laughed and Brienne shuddered.

“Only a man like you would be proud of such an act.”

“There are no men like me. There’s only me. And I think it passing odd that I am reviled by so many for my finest act.” He stood, grabbing the coat he had flung over the back of the chair at the start of this all. “Whatever you may think of me Mrs. Stark, it does not change the fact that you need me now.” He strode from the room, leaving a deafening silence in his absence.

***

Brienne woke in a bed the next morning, though small and hard it had still been infinitely better than the sofa and she silently thanked Catelyn for insisting they check her into her own room before heading to see Renly the previous day. Where yesterday had felt like a long whirlwind, today there was nothing to do but get ready for Renly’s dinner party.

Since she had fallen straight into bed after going to her room last night, she headed to the shower now. This shower was no different from the one in Catelyn’s room, too short, but blissfully hot. As she soaked she thought of seeing Renly again, a small forgotten voice in the back of her mind wondering what he would think of her in fancy dress. She shook her head and splashed water on her face to rid herself of the intrusive thought. Instead she thought of Detective Jaime Lannister, Kingslayer, wretched man, and her partner in this case.

“Why did you ask those questions tonight?” Brienne asked after he had left and the silence had grown too heavy.

“Ned had always disliked him, I needed to know if it was justified,” Catelyn replied. “And I needed to know what type of man has been tasked with returning my daughters to me,” she continued more quietly.

It was a fair answer Brienne thought, and there had been nothing else to do then, but gather her new garments and head to her own room, leaving Catelyn still sitting at the table, looking as hard and cold as stone.

As she left the shower, dried, and wrapped herself in a much too short robe she wondered if her employer had managed any sleep last night or if the hollows beneath her eyes had only grown. Breakfast arrived a moment later delivered by a maid, and Brienne spent the rest of the morning eating and going over her few pages of notes. It was nearly noon, when Catelyn appeared at her door.

“I thought I would help you with your hair and makeup before readying myself,” she explained, not waiting for Brienne’s welcome before coming in and laying supplies on the table.

Brienne bit back her protestations, the hollows beneath Catelyn’s eyes were indeed darker, so if she wished to spend time dolling Brienne up, however much she disliked it, Brienne did not have the heart to refuse her. Still in her robe Brienne sat dutifully in the chair Catelyn had pulled out for her.

“I have ordered lunch and tea to brought to us too,” Catelyn said, running a brush through Brienne’s thin, pale hair. After two hours of relative quiet, involving sandwiches, tea, and Catelyn working painfully slow while Brienne held as still as possible, Catelyn finally smiled softly and gave her a pat on the shoulder.

“Well, I’ll leave you to finish getting ready,” she said, moving to leave. “And I should get ready myself,” she continued, pausing to look in the mirror and pressing delicate fingers to the shadows beneath her eyes.

Only once the older woman had left, did Brienne dare to look in the mirror herself. She was a little surprised by what she saw, it had taken so long that she’d half expected Catelyn to have given her a full Hollywood starlet look. Her face was powdered just enough to dull her freckles and even her ruddy tone, her pale brows had been brushed and petroleum jelly applied to give them shine, brown liner was smudged along her upper lash line, and her normally pale lashes were thick and dark with mascara. Brienne had most feared that Catelyn would paint her already prominent lips one of those stand-out reds that most girls seemed to wear to parties these days, but she had instead mixed a dash of lipstick with more petroleum jelly to give her lips a bare kiss of color and shine. Her hair was combed back with Brilliantine, with a brow band made of the same gold ribbon used for her shoes encircling her head.

Brienne brought her fingers up to her face, but quickly brought them back down, afraid to ruin everything. The little voice came back as she stared, _what would Renly think_?

***

Jaime woke up late after a night of tossing and turning and dreaming of long golden curls turning into matted, unwashed silver-gold strands. Still tired he washed quickly in the damnedly small shower and dressed in the same clothes he’d worn yesterday. Though he’d teased the ladies yesterday about going shopping he had realized upon seeing their boxes that he was actually without his dress clothes at the moment too. He stopped in the cafe across from hotel for a quick coffee and danish before heading to the single men’s clothing shop in this wretched little town.

Furthering his sour mood was the fact that all the formal ready-wear options were made for men with less height and length of limb. With help of the shopkeep he finally found an outfit acceptable enough. It consisted of a silk bib front shirt with mother of pearl shirt links, tucked into high-waisted black satin trimmed trousers held up with simple black suspenders. The trousers were short enough he was forced to buy new black silk socks too. Over the shirt was an ivory waistcoat and then a tuxedo jacket with a thin notched satin lapel. It was only just too short at the wrists and hips, but fit his shoulders well enough to make up for it. A white bow tie, plain gold cufflinks, and black patent oxfords completed the simple, but effective look. Jaime refused the hats and gloves the shopkeep tried to sell him, he disliked formal wear enough without adding even more accessories.

He then headed to the barber to get a fresh cut and shave. It seemed that many had the same idea since the lines were long and he was told the wait would be even longer. Ever impatient he pressed multiple silver stags into a barber’s hand, who quickly finished with his current client and cleaned the chair for Jaime. He returned to the hotel with just enough time to dress and leave.

The sun was just beginning to set when he arrived. The mayor’s house was already hoppin, people milled about on the lawn, drinks in hand and the front doors were left wide displaying the sparkling interior filled with more people. Jaime tugged at his too short sleeves and, after confirming that Catelyn and her large companion were not outside, entered the house. He made his way to the bar set up in the parlor and ordered a highball. Hopefully, with enough alcohol and what little patience he possessed, this night would pass quick enough.

He lounged in a chair near the bar, nursing his drink, waiting for food to begin circulating and keeping an eye out for the women or Renly. He had just stood to order a second drink when he saw them enter the parlor. Catelyn looked elegant and cold as usual dressed all in black, even her red hair was covered by a black silk turban adorned with a bejeweled wolf’s head brooch. It was the large broad that had his attention.

Though her heels were conservative, she looked even taller than he remembered and if the way she kept tugging down at the fabric of her dress was any indication, she’d had the same issue with finding fitting clothes as he’d had. But the dress suited her well enough, made of some sort of shiny, light emerald green material, it was sleeveless in a wrap style, gathered and secured with a bow just above her hip. It was obviously meant to be mid-calf with the gathered side hitting at the knee, but instead the longest bit hit just below the knee and where it was gathered was so short he caught a glimpse of the garter holding up her beige stockings as she walked. He grinned and changed direction from the bar, perhaps tonight could be somewhat enjoyable after all.

Brienne noticed him first since her head had been on a swivel since they’d arrived. Her large mouth drew down at the sight of him, a reaction Jaime was used to.

“Miss Tarth, Mrs. Stark don’t you both look splendid this evening,” he said as he reached them.

“Mr. Lannister, good evening,” Catelyn said, her companion staying silent, face now blank. “Have you had a chance to speak with Renly yet?”

“Alas, it seems he has yet to even make an entrance. I’m sure he is waiting until most guests have arrived, he has always had a slight flair for the dramatic.” Brienne’s eyes narrowed at his words. “How about the wench and I go fetch some drinks from the bar, what would you like Mrs. Stark?” His nickname had done its job, the wench’s cheeks were aflame beneath the powder and she looked near ready to throttle him.

“A White Lady if you would Brienne,” Catelyn said softly, touching the girl’s arm and shooting him a cold glance before wandering to the dining area. The wench stomped to the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The nickname appears! 
> 
> In order for redemption Jaime does have to be at least a kinda shitty person. You may have noticed that the bit about Bran was missing from that beginning conversation. Just to clarify, no Jaime was not the one to cause Bran's fall in this au, it was just a tragic accident caused by a reckless, overconfident little boy climbing an old abandoned part of his home, so its not important to this storyline. 
> 
> If you're interested here is the dress that inspired Brienne's, it's the 1923 one, just imagine it much shorter of course: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/95/8b/3b/958b3b0dd27a3cd08716a3497191aa54.jpg
> 
> Also, I am so very disappointed in the show right now guys. I could rant forever, but I'm putting that energy into writing something better instead. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Kudos & comments make my day and keep me motivated!


	5. Dinner & Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Some of the dialogue was taken directly from the ASoIaf books and adapted to fit this scenario.

When she was fourteen, her father had an evening gown, her very first, made for the ball thrown in Renly’s honor. Brienne had been nervous, but excited to see the garment. Hanging against her changing screen it looked beautiful. It was a soft cream fabric with delicate pink flowers breaking up the color, the neck was round and modest, but not too high, the sleeves elbow length and loose, cinched at the waist with a butter yellow ribbon, the bottom falling to the floor in a tiered column, each tier with scalloped edges lined in the same yellow as the ribbon. Brienne’s eyes pricked in happiness at the sight.

Her septa had spent what felt like hours wrestling Brienne’s hip length, salt and wind damaged hair into a pompadour for the first time even though she was not yet 17, topping it off with a pink rose from their gardens. Her septa finally helped her into the dress and Brienne felt pretty for the first time in her girlhood.

“Well there is nothing else to be done,” Septa Roelle muttered, gesturing to the mirror for Brienne to look.

The top of the dress hung baggy where she lacked even a hint of any feminine curves, the sleeves that were meant to flow were filled out too much by her thick arms, the hem was too short by far exposing the tops of her shins, and all the yellow and pink made her look somehow both more sallow and more ruddy. She clenched her teeth and looked away.

“Now I have done the best I could with you, being as freakish big and mannish as you are,” her septa said. “It’s time to head to the festivities lest you also prove yourself a poor host.”

Brienne could hear the murmurs and snickers when she was announced to the room. She kept her head down and shoulders hunched, trying to be smaller, less noticable. As she sat, counting the minutes until the night would end, a long-fingered, graceful hand appeared under her nose.

“May I have this dance Brienne?” Renly asked, giving her what looked to be a genuine smile. She could only blink at it for a moment.

“You don’t have to,” she finally managed to whisper. Renly only smiled wider at her.

“But I want to. You have been kind and generous with your time since I arrived, so I would be honored if you would allow me one dance,” he said. Brienne swallowed, suddenly feeling hot and short of breath.

“I’m a terrible dancer,” she protested weakly.

“Well, I will have to be good enough for both of us then,” he replied, wiggling the fingers of his still outstretched hand. Knowing she could not argue further without being rude and half desperately wanting to, she took his hand in hers.

She danced as terribly as she had predicted. She could feel her hand sweating on his and she knew she must have be stepping on his toes every few moments, but he only continued to smile at her. He complimented her dress, the island, her family’s home, her kindness again. He told her how much he had enjoyed his stay, that he thought Tarth might be the best of the places he had visited. For the first time that night Brienne no longer cared about how she looked or what others thought.

“You must write to me,” Renly said after the song ended, still holding her hand as he led her off the dance floor. They stopped back at her table and he squeezed her hand. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

***

Brienne stood at the bar waiting her turn and fuming. What a vile, wretched, appalling man. A man she was apparently cursed with, she thought as he cut in front of her.

“I’ll take a White Lady, a Hanky Panky for my tall gal here, and The Last Word for me,” he ordered. Brienne shoved in front of him quickly.

“Please ignore the second drink, I’ll just take a lemonade,” she said to the bartender before he turned away.

“I should have known a pill like you wouldn’t drink,” he said, leaning against the bar and smirking in that infuriatingly pretty way of his.

“What do you have against me, _Kingslayer_?” she snapped, tired of his names.

“I’ve nothing against you in particular, wench.”

“You will call me Brienne, or preferrably Miss Tarth. Not _wench_.”

“And my name is Jaime, or detective even. Not Kingslayer.”

“Do you deny that you killed The King?”

“No. Do you deny your sex? If so hike that pretty dress of yours up just a bit further and show me.” He gave her an innocent smile. “I’d ask you to just let me peek down the front, but from the look of you that wouldn’t prove much.”

Brienne could only imagine the shade of red her face was turning as she tried to get control of her mind and tongue, but she was saved from retort by the bartender placing their three drinks in front of them.

“I must say though, I am flattered you chose a dress that matches my eyes,” Jaime said fluttering his lashes at her, before taking The Last Word with him.

Brienne could only glare down at the lustrous green fabric of her dress. Dammit all.

Brienne and Catelyn sat at one of the many round tables decorating the dining hall, with Jaime sitting alone the next table over, picking at some of the many finger foods that had begun to circulate. Renly finally made his entrance nearly twenty minutes later with his wife on his arm and Loras at his other side.

Margaery was exactly the type of girl Brienne had always imagined Renly would marry. She was beyond beautiful with large, soft brown eyes and matching hair secured in a low bun with ringlets framing her delicate face, wearing an intricate, sparkling gown that even Brienne could tell was the height of fashion. He heart ached at the sight.

Loras whispered something in Renly’s ear, earning a grin, then left towards the parlor. Renly and his perfect wife made their rounds and it was immediately obvious that Margaery was as likable and charming as she was lovely. They eventually made their way to Catelyn and Brienne.

“Margaery my sweet, this is Mrs. Catelyn Stark,” Renly introduced.

“Mrs. Stark, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am so sorry for your loss,” Margaery said, even her voice soft and pretty.

“You are kind,” Catelyn said.

“And this is my dear, old friend Brienne Tarth,” Renly said, turning a bright smile her way.

“I have heard much about you Brienne and am excited to finally get a chance to meet you,” Margaery said, clasping Brienne’s much larger hands in her own. Brienne stared at their hands for a beat, had two women ever had such different hands?

“It is good to meet you as well,” she said politely. Music struck up in the ballroom as Margaery gently let go.

“Ah, it’s time to dance, we will have our meeting when the party begins to wind down. I’m still waiting to hear from one other person,” Renly said, whisking his wife away. Brienne watched them go, sipping her lemonade and thinking that perhaps she should have gotten something stronger after all.

The dancing went on for nearly an hour with Brienne and Catelyn watching through the large, open doors, before everyone trickled back into the dining hall, ravenous and ready for something more than hors d’oeuvres. Renly, Margaery, and Loras all sat together at a table at the head of the room. They made for a beautiful sight—dark-haired, striking Renly between these two soft, pretty siblings.  They seemed joyous too, Renly occasionally feeding his wife bits of food from his own plate or placing soft kisses to her cheek in between which he laughed and talked with Loras, their heads often so close they were nearly touching. The food was rich and elegantly plated, served by the most finely dressed staff. Brienne ate her fill, more to give herself something to do besides stare at the trio and make her heart throb even more than it already was. Catelyn though she noticed only picked through the courses, taking only a few bites of each.

After dessert was served, the music picked back up in the ballroom and people slowly began making their way back in. When the room was nearly empty again, Brienne found a familiar hand outstretched to her.

“A dance for old time’s sake?” Renly asked, smiling at her.

“I’m still a terrible dancer,” she replied.

“I still don’t mind.”

She looked at Catelyn quickly who nodded, then Brienne took her dear old friend’s hand in hers. Her skin tingled where he touched her and her heart was galloping before they even reached the dance floor. She stepped on him less than she had as a teen, but still she stepped on him, and as before he only continued to smile at her.

“We must not wait so long to see each other again,” Renly said after the song ended, leading her off the dance floor by the hand. “Perhaps after this case is over you could visit Highgarden? It is truly a beautiful place.”

“Yes that sounds perfect,” Brienne replied, she could not deny him.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Loras came up and with a polite smile towards Brienne and whisked Renly away. Brienne returned to her seat with Catelyn and they waited together for nearly an hour and a half with Jaime in the background before Renly finally appeared again.

“Ladies, detective, I have just received a call from my last contact, let’s go somewhere a little more private to talk,” he said.

He led them to a private sitting room on the opposite side of the mayor’s house. The room was warm with a small fireplace, although an open window kept it from being stifling. Brienne closed the door so there was only a crack left muting the distant din of the party beyond, giving a sense of privacy. Renly, Brienne, and Catelyn stood near the fire and Jaime leaned against the wall near the door.

“The good news is that I do have some information for you now,” Renly began. “It seems your eldest daughter is still in King’s Landing. The common rumor is that Joffery Baratheon is acting as her…keeper of sorts.”

Catelyn clutched at her heart. “And Arya?”

“Unfortunately, no information or rumors have been heard about her, it is like she has vanished.” Catelyn closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Although I have learned some distressing rumors about Ned’s death.”

“I—Ned?” Catelyn asked, collapsing in a chair.

“Yes, the word in King’s Landing now is that the car accident was more nefarious than previously thought,” he said. Brienne took a step closer to him, a breeze blew the curtain and the fire crackled and flared, their shadows moved against the walls.

“What does that mean,” she asked, a chill crept up her neck despite the fire dancing and shivering in the hearth more than ever even though the curtains were now still. From the corner of her eye she could see Jaime was standing alert, did he feel it too? Something felt wrong suddenly. Renly’s shadow was moving, but that was impossible, and it was holding something, but Renly’s hands were empty.

“Cold,” Renly said in a quiet, confused voice. A heartbeat passed and the front of his dress shirt split beneath the shadow of a blade that was not there. He choked on a gasp before the blood came gushing out of his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested here is Brienne's teen ball dress, i just changed some of the colors, it is the 6th picture, the furthest to the right: http://www.vintagevictorian.com/costume_1910.html
> 
> I actually felt a little sad writing this chapter, poor Renly.
> 
> Next chapter--the three flee!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed :) comments and kudos make my day and keep me motivated!


	6. Fight & Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Some of the dialogue was taken directly from the ASoIaf books and adapted to fit this scenario.

After Brienne’s brother had died, her father had grown overly protective of her. One of their servants, Goodwin. He had been a military man and a master fighter his entire life until his advanced age had led him to seek a quieter life on their island. Selwyn recruited him to guard his daughter, accompany her when she went into town or out exploring.He became like a second father figure to Brienne. He was kind and wise and kept to himself, all qualities she admired.

One day when she was ten, they were in town and she found herself cornered by a group of boys. Goodwin was inside a nearby cafe, purchasing them a few pastries, while she had stayed outside inspecting a small window garden at the next shop. The boys were the usual sort that Brienne met when out, around her age, maybe a little older with cruel eyes and laughing, hurtful mouths.

Usually she could ignore them until Goodwin arrived and they scattered. But this day one of the older looking boys poked her not just with words but his fingers too. She slapped his hand away.

 _Ugly cunt_ he snarled at her and shoved with all his strength, knocking her into the window garden, breaking it and showering flowers and soil onto her.

Goodwin burst out of the cafe then and the boys broke and ran, scattering like a scared pack of dogs. He helped her up, brushed debris from her shoulders, hair, cheek. His large, wrinkled hand squeezed her shoulder.

 _Teach me how to fight_ , the words were out of her before she could think twice.

He smiled in that gentle fatherly way of his. _Let’s go_.

***

“Ren— _no!_ ” Brienne cried.

He stumbled into her arms, a sheet of blood spreading down the front of his crisp white shirt. The fire was dying in the hearth. Renly’s mouth moved to speak but his words were drowned by blood. His legs collapsed beneath him, but Brienne apparently had strength to match her size.

She pulled him closer to her, threw her head back, and screamed.

The shadow. Jaime had seen the oddness, the way the fire had danced without a breeze and their shadows moved, Renly’s more than anyone’s. He had felt the chill despite the previous warmth of the room. And then how Renly’s shadow had seemed off, holding something that wasn’t there. Something dark and evil had happened, something he didn’t understand. It felt as if death itself had blown into the room and shoved its shadow blade through Renly.

Time seemed to stop. He and Catelyn were frozen watching as tears streamed down Brienne’s face and Renly continued to bleed. But in only a few moments the nearly closed door burst open and two men Jaime vaguely knew and two strangers crowded in. They must have been nearby when the wench had screamed.

“Wicked woman!” the blond man screamed. Emmon Cuy, a friend of Renly’s that Jaime had seen around at parties and the like over the years. A dull and unforgettable man by all accounts. “Get away from him you vile creature!”

“Gods be good, _why_ Brienne?” asked the dark haired man. Robar Royce, another friend of Renly’s that Jaime remembered as kind, if boring.

Their presence started time again. Brienne looked up from Renly’s body, her emerald dress blooming red where he was pressed against her. Her mouth bobbed like a fish gasping for air. “I…I…”

“You’ll die for this,” Emmon snarled, reaching into his pocket for a decorative pocket knife. “You’ll pay for his life with your own.”

“ _No!_ ” Catelyn screamed, but the men were in a madness and three of them rushed forward shouting.

Brienne moved faster than Jaime would have expected, jumping up, Renly’s body toppling to the side and raising her arms to intercept the men. Jaime lurched forward and grabbed the man closest to him, one of the strangers, and threw him into the wall. Brienne grabbed Emmon by the wrist and used his own momentum to throw him to the side where he fell over a chair. Jaime ran forward and slammed into the second stranger, dropping him to the ground where a well placed kick knocked him out. The man Jaime had thrown into the wall was upon Brienne. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Catelyn speaking frantically, eyes huge, with Robar. The man and Brienne were grappling, she was larger than him, but suddenly she tried to do some sort of side step maneuver and her heel caught the rug twisting her ankle under her, and she fell. The man was upon her in the blink of an eye and Emmon was upright and advancing again, knife gleaming in the fire light. Jaime chose to rush him, catching him unawares and shoving him back into furniture. Then he turned and wrapped his arms around the second’s man neck, hauling him off Brienne. He staggered backward as the man flailed, hitting the wall and bracing himself against it. He kept the pressure on the man’s neck as he dug and scratched at Jaime’s arms. He could only watch with the struggling man in his grip as Emmon rushed again at a now standing Brienne. She dodged him just in time as a he swiped the knife at her. The man in Jaime’s arms grew limp. Quick, Brienne spun and slammed a fist into Emmon’s head before he could change direction, knocking the stunned man to his knees.

“Brienne, to me,” Catelyn called from the doorway. Brienne jogged to her and Jaime let the unconscious man fall, following the two women. “This way,” Catelyn urged, “and slowly. We must not run or people will ask why. Walk calmly and act as if nothing is amiss.”

Jaime handed Brienne his jacket, gesturing with his head at her dress. She clenched her jaw and took it, folding her arms over it across her chest so it draped over her front. They fell in line, walking through the opulent house. It was only half a minute before shouting could be heard behind them again. As they progressed through the house more voices joined in. People began to huddle together whispering. They walked through it all and into the night.

The night air felt cold on Jaime’s flushed skin and he shivered.

“I never held him, until he was dying,” Brienne said quietly as they continued to walk in the dark, lit only by the rare streetlamp. Her voice sounded as if she were on the verge of breaking. “He was talking one moment and suddenly blood was everywhere…Mrs. Stark, I do not understand. Did either of you see, did you…?”

“I saw a shadow,” Catelyn said. Jaime nodded, so he had not been alone in that. “I thought it was Renly’s shadow at first, but it was his brother’s.”

“Stannis?” Brienne whispered.

“I _felt_ him. It makes no sense, I know…”

Had it felt like Stannis to Jaime? He did not know, he had only met the man in passing once at his sister’s wedding many years ago. But it made as much sense as any other theory he could come up with. Brienne seemed to agree.

“I will kill him. With my own two hands, I will kill him. I swear it. I swear it. I swear it.”

Jaime stared at the large woman’s back, shocked at the vehemence in her voice. He would have thought her too good for declarations of murder. Catelyn turned down a different street.

“Ma’am, the hotel is the other way,” Jaime spoke up. Brienne jumped slightly as if she had forgotten that he trailed behind them.

“We cannot go back to the hotel. I assume you both have your wallets?” Catelyn asked, pulling her jacket closer to her as she kept on.

“Yes,” Jaime said.

“Yes, but our things, our clothes?” Brienne asked.

“We have to leave them. We need to be long gone by the time they think to look for us. We were all with Renly when he was killed. That will not be forgotten,” Catelyn replied and Jaime knew she was right.

Brienne wordlessly followed on, hugging Jaime’s jacket closer to her. He felt a stab of pity for the girl—perhaps his and Catelyn’s clothes were a bit uncomfortable and overly fancy for fleeing, but Brienne was obviously unused to this sort of dress altogether and was covered in blood.

“Where are we heading then?” Jaime asked. Catelyn glanced back at him with furrowed brows for a second and Jaime half expected her to tell him that he was not going anywhere with them.

“On my way here I saw a farm about a mile outside of town. They had plenty of horses, we’ll take a couple and ride off the roads to Riverrun and my family,” Catelyn replied instead.

It wasn’t a terrible idea, they should be able to avoid anyone looking for them this way. Although he would prefer to go straight to King’s Landing, he understood Catelyn’s need to go where she had certain allies.

They reached the town limits about twenty minutes after they had left the mayor’s house and it took about another half hour to reach the farm. It was dark out but for the lights of the town behind them and the stars in the sky. The wench kept stumbling after they left the even pavement of the town, unused to heels probably in the best of situations, she was no match for the soft, uneven ground. It was likely past midnight now and there were no lights on at the farmhouse. They made their way to the stables. Brienne eased open one door just enough for them to slip inside.

If outside had been dark, the inside was utter blackness. With a click a small flame illuminated Catelyn’s face.

“Let’s bridle the horses in here then saddle them in the fields,” she commanded.

They fumbled around for what they needed, Catelyn trying to stick close with her lighter as Brienne and Jaime gathered three bridles, reigns, saddle blankets, and saddles. The place had six horses to choose from, the three of them each chose and bridled a horse. The work was slow going as they could only bridle one at a time with their single source of light. Catelyn chose a chestnut and white tobiano paint, Brienne a cream draft, and Jaime a palomino quarter horse. Before they left, Catelyn placed two gold dragons in front of each stall they had emptied.

They led their new horses into the field walking away from the farm and further from Bitterbridge for nearly twenty minutes, Brienne stumbling more than ever, before saddling, mounting, and riding north. Catelyn he knew was wealthy and so it was no surprise she rode easily, her coat falling about her so as to cover her hiked up dress. Brienne seemed to be able to ride well too although her attire was not so forgiving as Catelyn’s—she had put on Jaime’s coat back at the stables to free her hands, but it was even shorter at the wrists and hem, providing her with no coverage. On the side where her dress gathered she was exposed all the way up to the top of her hip, the other side was only slightly better, covering to just above mid thigh. Both garters were in full view as well as where the tops of her stocking cut slightly into her well-muscled thighs. A flush of heat crawled it way up his throat and he turned to concentrated on the vast darkness ahead of them.

***

They rode for perhaps an hour in silence.

“We cannot travel by horse all the way to Riverrun,” Brienne broke the quiet. “It would take about three weeks under the best conditions, we should head to a train station.” She had been doing the calculations and estimates in her head to keep her mind occupied and away from the thought of…what had happened.

“Well we can’t go to the Bitterbridge station,” Jaime said. “We’re already too far and that will be the first place they look for people on the run.”

“There was a stop before Bitterbridge, a tiny little town I don’t remember the name of,” Catelyn provided.

“The Ring most like,” Jaime said. “It is probably a two day ride there. Does that appease you wench?”

Brienne ground her teeth. “That should work.”

They rode on. Brienne’s eyes kept falling, the long day catching up to her, she wondered if either of the others were so tired. Slowly everything lightened and the sun rose. Everything felt so much worse in the light. Though she had Jaime’s too short tuxedo jacket buttoned around her middle, you could still easily see the browning red stains that ruined her dress, and her legs felt too visible, too exposed now. She swallowed against the tightening in her throat.

“There is a small stream coming up,” Catelyn spoke the first words in hours. “We should stop to give the horse a brief rest and allow ourselves to stretch our legs.”

“I’d agree to anything that gets me off this beast,” Jaime groaned. Though Brienne and her cramping thighs agreed, she stayed silent.

The stream was small, but the water was clear and running which meant it would be good to drink. Jaime slid off his horse with ease, somehow looking graceful and dignified despite his complaints. Brienne tried to dismount facing away from him, trying to keep as much of her covered as possible, but with being mindful of her heels and clutching the fabric of her dress, she lost her balance and tumbled off instead. Her horse merely turned its head, looking unimpressed. She could hear Jaime’s peels of laughter behind her, she felt hot and knew her cheeks were likely bright red.

“Oh, Miss Tarth, here let me help you,” Catelyn appeared before her, apparently having dismounted with grace and ease as well.

Only half a day more and they could sleep. Only a day after that and they would be on a train. Then to Riverrun and she could be free to find Stannis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end of Catelyn's time here, just about 1 more chapter of it. Then they'll start getting more quality time together :)
> 
> Next chapter: On the run to Riverrun!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, comments and kudos make me happy and keep me writing!


	7. Riverrun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Some of the dialogue/descriptions were taken directly from the ASoIaf books and adapted to fit this scenario.

From the age of ten until she left home, Goodwin trained with her. First he taught her basic self defense so she could hold her own against simple town bullies. Then he started teaching her boxing which was was when her father caught them. His face had been stern and disapproving seeing her in knickerbockers and with her hands wrapped. Brienne immediately began tearfully explaining—the bullies, wanting to be stronger. She could feel her face was red and the silly tears wouldn’t stop. 

_ My dear, my dear, enough, calm yourself _ , he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close so she could sniffle into his stomach and calm herself.

He wasn’t mad, in fact he thought it was a good idea she learn to protect herself, he said. So she and Goodwin continued their lessons. 

A few months after her eleventh birthday her father asked her over supper if she would be interested in learning something else too. He slid a long rectangular box across the table. What did she think about fencing? He had enjoyed the sport as a boy and with her interest in fighting perhaps she would too. She grinned widely and accepted, running around the table to throw her arms around his neck. A year later Goodwin introduced her to wrestling. Brienne excelled at all of it. 

***

They rode through fields, across small streams, and in the edges of woods using the sun as a guide for both direction and time. Every so often Jaime would hum or whistle or straight out sing, until Catelyn would shush him, only to start up again after some time had passed. The man was disgustingly chipper for someone who had witnessed a murder, was fleeing, and had not slept in over twenty-four hours now. Brienne thought she might have never despised a man more than she did Jaime right now.  _ No _ , her mind reminded her,  _ Stannis _ . 

Hours and one more short break later they found themselves at the tiny town of New Barrel. They dismounted when they were less than a mile from town. Brienne shrugged off Jaime’s jacket and held it in front of her to cover her front again. They approached a manor on the outskirts of town that had a large stable and after talking to the hand and Jaime passing him a silver stag, left their horses there. The hand had also told them that there was a single small motel in town they could spend the night at.

The motel was small indeed, probably only a dozen rooms, and dingy. The woman at the front desk was thin and wrinkled beyond her years.

“We only got one room available,” she told them, when Catelyn asked. Jaime pushed forward.

“Surely you can spare just one more,” he practically purred, smiling brilliantly and pushing another silver moon towards the woman. She snatched the coin and smiled a mouth full of cracked and blackening teeth at him.

“One room,” she repeated, pocketing the coin. “But I’ll get you extra blankets, pillows, and towels.” 

She handed a key to Catelyn and disappeared into a small room behind the desk returning with two more pillows then disappeared once more to return with a pile of four blankets, two large towels, and two washcloths. Jaime snatched the linens with a scowl and Catelyn grabbed the pillows with a nod of thanks, Brienne hugged the jacket closer to her front. The room was about the same size as the ones they had stayed in in Bitterbridge, but was much less well kept. Catelyn and Jaime dropped their things on the bed and Brienne draped the suit jacket over the back of a chair. 

“I’m going to the shops to get us new clothes Miss Tarth, can you write your measurements and shoe size?” Catelyn said. Brienne nodded and retrieved her notebook and pen from her small black silk clutch that contained her only few possessions not left behind—her wallet, notebook, pen, a comb, and a small tin of vaseline. She sat in the chair and scribbled down the numbers and ripped out the page to give to Catelyn.

“Could you also get some bandages and ointment?” she asked, holding out a silver stag.

“Where you injured?” Catelyn frowned. 

Brienne propped a foot on her knee, careful to keep her dress draped between her legs and gently untied and pried off a shoe. The heels had been to small to start with and being hard, new patent leather had already began blistering her feet by the time they had finished the walk to the mayor’s house the previous night. Now after dancing, fighting, walking through town, walking to and from that farm, and every other step since her feet were bruised and bloody, scraped raw with splitting and broken toenails, her stockings ripped to shreds from ankle down. 

Catelyn recoiled. “Dear gods, Brienne, why did you not take them off?” 

Brienne shrugged, working to remove the other shoe. “Getting impaled by a rusty nail or dirty stick or stepping on a poisonous plant or venomous spider would have been worse.”

Brienne looked up to see the pity in Catelyn’s eyes before she turned away.

“Will you be accompanying me Mr. Lannister to purchase your own clothes?” Catelyn changed the subject. 

Brienne looked at him for the first time since entering the room, his eyes were on her bloody feet, before flickering up to her eyes for a fraction of a second, his expression unreadable. He nodded and left the room, Catelyn following. 

Brienne undressed as soon as the left. Leaving everything in a pile next to the chair, she grabbed a towel and washcloth and headed to the bathroom. The shower was even shorter than the one at the other hotel and this water never got warm enough to be considered hot, but it washed the blood from her skin and cleaned her painful feet. Finished she wrapped herself in a towel and sat on the edge of the tub to keep her feet inside and clean. With no slippers or socks or nonbloodied clothes to put on yet, she decided to wait here until Catelyn returned. 

Either her shower had been longer than she’d thought or Catelyn had been very quick because she had to sit there less than a quarter of an hour, before there was knocking on the bathroom door. When Brienne gave permission, Catelyn entered with pharmacy bag in hand. She sat next to Brienne and patted her lap. Brienne tried to protest, but Catelyn swiftly grabbed an ankle, forcing Brienne to slide sideways enough to put the limb in the older woman’s lap without falling. Catelyn tended to her with gentle, caring hands.  _ Mother’s hands _ , Brienne thought. She finished by covering everything with thick wool socks. She then handed Brienne a second bag with a men’s cotton pajama set and soft men’s slippers and left her to dress. 

Catelyn washed next, exiting in a long cotton nightgown, robe, and plush slippers. Jaime went last, returning in pajamas almost identical to Brienne’s but red where hers were blue. While Jaime had been in the bathroom a boy Catelyn had paid delivered three orders of breaded veal cutlets, biscuits, green beans, and bottles of ginger ale. They devoured the food and though it was not yet dusk they closed the curtains and turned off the lights. Catelyn demand Brienne take the bed, despite her tired protests, before taking one of the extra pillows and one of the four extra blankets and settling on the couch. Grumbling, but never actually protesting to Brienne’s surprise, Jaime laid two of the blankets on the floor for cushion and settled in with the remaining extra pillow and third blanket. 

It was still dark when Catelyn roused Brienne from her black, dreamless sleep. “We should leave before the sun rises,” she said. 

They rode off to The Ring while it was still dark. A shopping bag with all their bundled dirty dress clothes tied to Jaime’s saddle and another with their new sleepwear tied to Catelyn’s. Brienne was back in menswear with brown oxfords, dark brown wool trousers, and a deep blue pullover with cream trim over a white button up. Jaime had chose a similar outfit for himself—brown oxfords, gray wool trousers, and a red shawl-collared cardigan over a white button down and gray striped tie. Catelyn had refused pants, even sporty knickerbockers, though Jaime claimed he had tried to argue their practicality, instead opting for a black blouse, a long loose black skirt, brown ladies oxfords, and her fur trimmed coat. 

Their travel was much more comfortable with their new clothes, though Brienne’s thighs were just one painful knot and her feet throbbed. The sun rose and was falling back down when The Ring was finally within their reach. They dismounted just outside of town and headed to a stable visible on its outskirts. Brienne spoke to the stable master, coming back with three silver moons which she gives to Catelyn with an apology. The woman shook it off, refusing the coin and forcing Brienne to pocket it instead. Because of the late hour they then headed straight to the train station despite growling stomachs. They were lucky, there was still one train heading north to Stony Sept, leaving in twenty minutes. 

The train ride was bliss compared to the last two days, and they were even able to procure two separate cabins so there’s a break from the Kingslayer. A service cart brought them dinner and tea, which they ate in silence, watching the darkening world rush past.

“Mrs. Stark, when you are safely back home after tonight, give me leave to go,” Brienne said some time after they had eaten and the sun had fully disappeared. She had hardly spoken since their departure from Bitterbridge, not that any of them had been much for conversation with their discomfort, but she had been quietest of all. She had been polite to Catelyn and only shot Jaime an occasional withering look when he would jape, but she had not spoken unless spoken to and she had not wept since that night.

“Where would you go?” Catelyn asked.

“Back to Storm’s End,” Brienne said.

“Alone,” Catelyn stated. 

Brienne kept her expression still, passive. “Yes.”

“You mean to kill Stannis.”

Brienne’s hands clenched into fists and her jaw tightened. “I swore a vow. Three times, you heard me.” 

“I did,” Catelyn said cautiously. “I agree that vows should be kept, but Stannis is a man of prominence, probably surrounded by his own men at all times.”

“I’m not afraid of his men or his power. I never should have fled.” 

“Is that what troubles you? That some fool will call you craven?” Catelyn sighed. “Renly’s death was not your fault. You were a loyal friend, but when you seek to follow him into the earth, you do no one justice.” Catelyn reached out a hand. “I know how hard it is—”

Brienne shook off the touch, feeling the emotions rising in her. “No one knows.”

Coldness returned to Catelyn’s eyes and her mouth drew into a sharp line. “You’re wrong. Every morning when I wake up I remember Ned is gone. I have no skills with fighting or investigating, but that doesn’t mean that I do not dream of heading to King’s Landing and wrapping my hands around the throats of all who were responsible until their faces turn black.”

Brienne’s eyes grew wide. “If you dream that why would you hold me back?”

“Killing Stannis will not bring Renly back, your energy and time would better serve the living than the dead. You have the ability to find justice, you can save innocent lives, but you cannot if you are dead or rotting in a cell.”

Brienne turned and stared out the window for a long quiet moment, digesting Catelyn’s words. “That is true,” she admitted softly, then turned to face Catelyn again. “I vow to serve you then, to find your daughter’s and bring them to safety, to bring you peace. I swear it by the old gods and new.” 

Catelyn clasped Brienne’s hands in her own. “And I vow that that you will always be welcome in my home. I will use whatever power I have to protect your name and ask nothing dishonorable of you,” Catelyn said with an earnest smile.

They fell into companionable silence again before dozing off, passing the rest of the ride to Stony Sept in slumber. It was still dark when they had to deboard to purchase tickets for a second train to take them finally to Riverrun. They again managed to get two separate cabins and after another few hours they arrived.

Catelyn led them to her childhood home, where a servant informed them that her uncle is out of town on work, but that her brother and father were home. Her brother though was in town at the moment and her father resting. They were shown into the parlor and given tea and cookies to snack on while they waited. 

Catelyn’s brother arrived wearing a navy blue pinstriped suit and red tie, his hair the same auburn and eyes the same deep blue as Catelyn’s. Though he is a full head taller than his younger sister, he is shorter than both Jaime and Brienne. He wraps Catelyn in his arms and looks bright and boyish, until he asks about the rumors he has heard of Renly.

“Cat, some say  _ you  _ killed Renly. Others claim it was a southern woman,” he said, his glance lingering on Brienne. 

“Renly was murdered,” Brienne said quietly, keeping careful control of her voice and face, “and not by Mrs. Stark or myself. I swear it on my mother’s grave.”

Catelyn took back control of the conversation, introducing Brienne and Edmure to each other, then introducing the silent Jaime almost as an afterthought. 

“Brienne was with Renly when he was killed, as were Jaime and I, but we had no part in his death,” Catelyn stated, but explained no further. 

The siblings then delved into chatter about the household and town and their father. Soon Catelyn excused herself and she and her brother went to visit with their father and Jaime and Brienne were each shown to a room. Brienne took off her sweater and shoes, washed her face, and laid in the large plush bed to nap. 

Catelyn took her and Jaime out on the town the next day. The detective joined them at the cafe to grab a pastry and coffee, but left with a mocking salute when finished with his breakfast. The women spend the day at the shops, Brienne got a second outfit and a jacket and new bags. While Catelyn was milling about a hat shop, Brienne headed across the street to a sporting store and, despite looks from the shopkeep, purchased a cheap, but sturdy switchblade. 

They have an early dinner back at the house with Edmure and Jaime, then the Tully siblings left to spend the rest of evening with their father. Brienne retired to her room early rather than spend time with the Kingslayer; they would be forced to spend quite  a lot of time together soon enough.

The following morning was a rush, they woke early, eating a large breakfast before returning to their rooms to pack. Catelyn follows Brienne to assist her. She will not be going with, instead staying with the Tully’s, her family, since her father is close to his time and she would likely only slow them down. They finish packing and Catelyn grasped Brienne’s hands in her own.

“May your journey be swift and safe,” Catelyn said, squeezing her hands once before letting go.

“Thank you,” Brienne replied softly. Catelyn fished multiple gold dragons out of her handbag and pressed them into Brienne’s hands.

“Bring my girls back to me Brienne.” Brienne held the gold tightly, swallowing heavily, she nodded.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been awhile. Updates are going to be more sporadic now. For one the show has disappointed me so much. And second I am in grad school and classes have started again, I had actually started this fic during a short break between classes which was why I had time to write so much. 
> 
> This is a bit of a filler chapter, not much braime action sorry, but its a bit longer than usual and it's Catelyn's last chapter. 
> 
> Next time--the road trip begins with insults and a car chase!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Comments and kudos make my day :)


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